


did you know you have the face of a genius

by Cerberusia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fuck Or Die, Incest, M/M, Pederasty, Pureblood Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:29:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment Sirius calls his name, Regulus knows something's wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	did you know you have the face of a genius

**Author's Note:**

> Originally planned for the prompt 'a Sirius fuck or die story', with bonus points for 'the other person being someone he would not otherwise fuck'. Naturally, I picked Regulus. Alas, they don't allow chan and this story had to be chan to fit the canon timeline and paederastic theme, so I didn't submit it. Title is from Kate Bush's 'The Kick Inside'.

The moment Sirius calls his name, Regulus knows something's wrong.

"Oi, Reggie," he says, and Regulus scowls at the nickname even as he grasps his wand. Footsteps come up the stairs and along the landing, and Sirius pushed open Regulus' bedroom door.

He doesn't _look_ particularly strange - bit flushed and unsteady, so maybe he's drunk? There's something off about his general demeanour, though. He ambles over to Regulus' bed - Regulus clutches his wand tighter, ready to knock him back, thank Merlin for the wards on Grimmauld Place preventing the Ministry from detecting underage magic performed within them - and looms over Regulus, balancing himself with one knee on the bed, making the mattress dip.

"Reggie," he says, "I need you to do me a favour." His breath doesn't smell of alcohol. It smells...sweet. Regulus doesn't let go of his wand; he doesn't even move.

"What," he says flatly, when it becomes apparent that Sirius isn't going to be distracted. In response, Sirius gives him a sly smile.

" _Weeell_ ," he drawls, and ducks his head to bring their faces close together, "can you keep a secret?"

"Yes," says Regulus, reluctantly. He is, unfortunately, curious. Sirius leans closer still.

"I've been thinking-" His breath tickles Regulus' lips. "I've been thinking that we should start up that old thing, like Uncle recommended. Now you're the right age, and all..."

It takes Regulus a moment to work out what 'that old thing' is. When he does, he wriggles away rapidly, to the other side of the bed - where Sirius promptly catches him, leaning over him and caging him within his arms. Pinned down by the duvet, Regulus squirms in his brother's arms.

"You said you didn't want to!" he hisses. "You said you'd never do _that_ with me! You _humiliated_ me in front of everyone!"

"Only in front of Mother and Uncle Alphard," Sirius corrects him, as if all the family didn't know within the week. "Anyway, I wasn't — _ready_ , then. Now I am." His face draws impossibly closer. "And so are you, right? Ready to start the journey towards manhood and all that?" His tone is wheedling, but also seductive. Regulus hates that it's working.

"Why now?" he asks, forcing himself to meet Sirius' eyes.

"No time like the present." Sirius' eyes flicker between his eyes and his mouth. "Can I kiss you?"

"Didn't think you'd be the type to ask," jibes Regulus. The humiliation of his prior rejection still stings: as usual, his too-cool big brother wasn't interested in engaging in their honoured family traditions, especially not with his 'frankly unimpressive' (yes, that was the exact phrase he'd used) younger brother. And now here he is, begging to spend time with him and to be allowed to take him to bed? It's too good to be true.

"Please, Reggie," says Sirius, and there's that wrongness again. Sirius doesn't plead for anything unless he's teasing.

"If you use my actual name, I might consider it." Regulus makes his tone as haughty as he can, hiding his worry as he stalls for time.

"Please, Regulus." Sirius sounds so sincere that Regulus feels unaccountably embarrassed. "Let me kiss you," he says softly, and Regulus licks his lips before saying, just as quietly,

"Okay."

Kissing is - weird. Good-weird, but still weird. Regulus wishes he had some experience in it, but at fourteen he still hasn't plucked up the courage to approach anyone at school - and it would have to be him approaching, since he outranks almost all of his peers by virtue of being a Black. Not that he could have done much anyway: some kissing might have been acceptable, a bit of groping, but you're not supposed to have lovers until your _erastes_.

Who, in his case, is Sirius. Regulus parts his lips when Sirius' tongue traces the bottom one, and shivers: apparently he's sensitive there. So _that's_ why kissing feels good. And Sirius definitely knows what he's doing, curling his tongue around Regulus' and licking at the inside of his mouth. It should be disgusting but instead, to his embarrassment, Regulus can feel himself getting hard.

He tries to break away from Sirius, but it's difficult (he refuses to even think 'hard'): he draws back, and either Sirius bends down further or he himself comes back for more, like he can't bear to stop kissing. On the fourth try he manages to say -

"Sirius, wait-" Sirius' mouth descends upon his again, and for several moments Regulus is ravished by his tongue, sending shivers through his body. He feels prickly-hot all over.

"I can't wait," Sirius breaks away long enough to say, then goes right back to what he was doing. Trapped under him, Regulus wriggles unhappily, caught between the knowledge that things will devolve into impropriety very quickly if he doesn't stop now, and the desire to keep going and let Sirius press their bodies together without the thick duvet in the way until - something. Anything.

"Sirius, it's not-" he tries.

"Not proper? Fuck _proper_." Sirius' voice drops to that confidential murmur again. "You want it, right? I know you want it; I can _feel_ you want it." He presses his thigh between Regulus' bent legs, and even through the duvet it makes Regulus squirm with pleasure. "I say you've waited long enough."

There's still something wrong with this scenario, something out-of-character, but Sirius is rolling off Regulus, pulling down and kicking the duvet right down to the foot of the bed and rolling back on top of Regulus, straddling him, before he has time to get cold and Regulus stops caring about propriety for the forseeable.

Sirius' skin is very hot through Regulus' nightshirt as he first strips off his Muggle t-shirt then leans in to kiss him again while unbuckling his belt. Regulus is glad: it's stupid, but it feels too weird to look at his brother undressing. But he's not, Regulus realises after a moment - he's not taking off his trousers. His t-shirt's the only thing he's removed.

"Hey," Regulus protests, "at least take off your shoes!"

Sirius squirms and wriggles and manages to kick them off without letting go of Regulus. His chest is burning through Regulus' nightshirt. There's something seriously wrong.

"Sirius," says Regulus, but is cut off by another kiss.

"Let's get you out of this, yeah?" Sirius' fingers go to the hem of his nightshirt, which has ridden up to mid-thigh.

"Sirius!" he hisses, trying to pull it down. "What's going _on_?"

"I want you," says Sirius, kissing the corner of his mouth. "C'mon, you shy?" He takes hold of Regulus' penis through the cloth and squeezes. Regulus squirms, but Sirius is sitting on his legs.

"Sirius!" he pleads, feeling tears gathering in his eyes.

"It's okay," soothes Sirius, hot breath in his ear. "It'll be okay. It'll be good." He pushes up the nightshirt and shoves his hand inside Regulus' underwear. Regulus whimpers and squirms and lets Sirius have his way as usual. His hand is so hot on Regulus' penis that it can't be natural, but he can't do anything about it. And it feels so _good_ , because Sirius is older and experienced like an _erastes_ should be. Regulus digs his blunt nails into his older brother's broad back and tries not to cry out.

"Here, up you get," says Sirius breathlessly. Regulus allows himself to be manhandled onto his hands and knees. He's still not happy about this because there's still something _really_ weird about Sirius, but he doesn't _think_ he's trying to humiliate him. Again. He's too serious about it.

Shifting around has pulled his nightshirt down, so Sirius pushes it up again and takes the opportunity to pull his underwear down to mid-thigh. Regulus rubs his thighs together anxiously: he knows what's coming. He listens to Sirius pulling down the zipper of his stupid Muggle trousers - how they gained such popularity when robes are so much more practical he can't imagine - and wishes he'd take them off fully. There's something rather impersonal about have sex with your clothes on, like you mean to take off the minute you're done.

"Sirius, take them off," he says. Sirius groans.

" _Now?_ " He sounds exasperated.

" _Now,_ " insists Regulus. "And your tea-shirt, too." Why are they called tea-shirts? Maybe they're like tea-dresses, and you wear them to afternoon parties. He'd ask Sirius, but he'd probably laugh at him. Sirius grumbles, but Regulus hears clothing hitting the floor rapidly and within seconds Sirius is back, bracing himself with one hand on Regulus' hip as he guides his cock between Regulus' thighs.

"Close your knees," he says, very quietly, and Regulus shuffles them tight together to trap Sirius' cock between his skinny thighs, nestled just under his testicles. Sirius waits the barest second to be sure that Regulus has him, then starts to move. Regulus opens his mouth, but no sound escapes. Of course the other boys at school used to titter about their _erastes_ doing this, but he didn't realise it would feel so _good_. On every stroke the head of Sirius' cock rubs his testicles as it pushes them out the way, which feels good, but what really gets him is the feeling of being covered by Sirius' bigger body, Sirius' breath hot on his neck, Sirius' strong thighs behind his. No matter how strangely Sirius is acting, he feels very safe in his brother's arms.

Sirius' thrusts get faster and shorter, and a hot thread of anticipation coils in Regulus' gut. He's not anywhere close to coming himself, so he can focus fully on Sirius: his rapid, harsh breath, his arms shaking from bracing himself over Regulus for so long, his chest still so hot against Regulus' back.

Sirius makes an inarticulate sound in his ear and goes still; Regulus feels something trickle down his inner thigh, and is both disgusted and pleased. Sirius goes limp on top of him, his full weight crushing Regulus for a moment before he has the decency to roll off him. Regulus rubs his thighs together; they feel strange now. He raises his head from the pillow to look at Sirius, laid out flat on his back, staring at the ceiling like he's miles away.

"Erm," he says, "are you going to...?"

Sirius blinks at him. "What? Yeah, alright," he says, like Regulus has asked him for a cigarette. "C'mere." Regulus rolls over to lie on his side next to him and Sirius puts one hand on his chest and the other between his legs. He smears his hand through his own come dripping down Regulus' thigh, momentarily absorbed by it, before reaching for Regulus' cock.

He takes it slow, lazily pulling the foreskin up and down the shaft, eyes half-lidded. It feels good, like a hot bath. He rolls over onto his side to get a better grip, putting his face only inches from Regulus'. Regulus wonders if he's going to kiss him. When he doesn't make a move, Regulus leans forward to press their lips together himself. He doesn't know what he's doing, so he keeps his mouth shut until he feels Sirius smile against his lips and his brother's tongue probe at the seam of his lips. The thumb resting against his chest starts to rub a small circle around his nipple, the hand around his cock squeezing a little tighter, and Regulus breathes in sharply through his nose. Sirius kisses him a little harder, thrusts his tongue in a little more roughly, and Regulus shudders in pleasure.

Sirius wriggles further forwards so he's half on top of Regulus, pulling faster at his cock, and Regulus starts making small, muffled noises into the kiss. Sirius just carries him through it, licking tenderly at his bottom lip even as he pinches his nipple. At some point Regulus' hands end up gripping Sirius' shoulders.

Coming is like cresting a wave, like going over a jump on horseback; it comes from somewhere deep inside him, low in his abdomen, a sparkling thread. Regulus jerks his hips up in Sirius' grip, convulsing in his brother's arms, mouth wide open under Sirius'. Sirius milks him through it until Regulus shifts away from the stimulation, oversensitive.

The fingers digging into Sirius' strong shoulders have turned into a loose embrace, inviting cuddling as best he can, but Sirius doesn't seem inclined to stick around: he gives Regulus a brief kiss, the hand pressed to his cheek normal temperature again, and starts pulling on his Muggle clothes again. Regulus watches, unmoving, nightshirt still hiked up around his waist.

"Night-night, Reggie," he says casually, spelling his bootlaces tied as he leaves the room.

Regulus knows he should really get properly dressed again and get under the covers, but he doesn't want to. And so, since he's taken his first step on the road to manhood now, he doesn't. He sleeps lightly, on top of the covers, his nightshirt pulled up and his underwear pulled down, his brother's - his _erastes'_ semen drying on his thighs and his own drying on his stomach, just in case Sirius comes back. Just in case he's feeling the same magical bond, fostered through centuries of Pureblood tradition, pulling his thoughts and his feet back towards his _eromenos_.

Sirius doesn't come back to him that night, but sometime in the early hours of the morning, the weak, grey dawn light slithering through the arched windows of Regulus' room, Regulus feels - or dreams he feels - a little tug, somewhere near his heart, as if a knot there has been unraveled. He rolls over and slips into deeper sleep.

He wakes a few hours later feeling unaccountably cold. He looks down at himself: did he really sleep like this? With his knickers around his knees and his nightshirt not covering anything and come on him? If he fell asleep right after wanking, he _must_ have been tired. He spells himself clean and dresses for breakfast.

Sirius is present, unusually, seated at Father's left. Regulus takes his place opposite him and helps himself to toast and crab-apple jam.

"Morning," says Sirius, casually. He is cutting up his sausage very precisely. "Sleep well?"

"Like the dead," Regulus replies, slathering jam on his toast, "I must have passed out the moment my head hit the pillow."

"Well, a growing boy like you needs his sleep, doesn't he?" says Sirius, suddenly very cheerful as he spears a piece of sausage. "Though if you ever overtake me I'm hexing your feet off, just so's you know." He's being unusually pleasant today, but it's better than his usual unpleasantness, so Regulus plays along and enjoys having his big brother back instead of a moody teenager.

When Sirius casually scratches his shoulder, Regulus catches sight of red crescent-shaped marks, like fingernails. _He_ had a good night then, though he can't say that in front of Father. But there's something about those marks that tugs at his mind—

"Oi, Reggie, want to try out those new Cleansweeps?" Sirius asks, finishing his toast. "I hear the steering's really something else."

"Yeah," says Regulus, confusion forgotten in the face of his older brother wanting to fly with him again. "Yeah, let's!" Father lets them go from the table with his usual admonishment to _be careful, boys, your mother and I don't want to have to produce another heir and spare at our age_ , and by the time they've got the Cleansweeps out and changed into their flying boots, Regulus has quite forgotten what was bothering him. Couldn't have been that important.


End file.
